


Old Habits

by mydeira, Sadbhyl



Series: Responsible Adults (aka, The Menageaverse) [41]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-07
Updated: 2012-06-07
Packaged: 2017-11-07 04:40:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/426996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydeira/pseuds/mydeira, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sadbhyl/pseuds/Sadbhyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ethan learns that Giles is staying after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Habits

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after Parting Words.
> 
> Written by Mydeira, beta'd by Sadbhyl

Ethan didn’t consider himself a masochist. Yet here he was, standing across the street, looking at Rupert’s empty flat. Not even gone three days and the building super had already let the place. And the world kept ever bloody turning.

Now that was just melodramatic. Ethan scratched his chin, the rough stubble of a couple days’ growth pricking the skin of his fingertips. Too much scotch and too little sleep had made him weak. Time he started thinking about moving on himself. There was nothing left for him here, contrary to what a certain tabula rasa spell gone wrong had shown him. The girl would only forgive him if she forgot everything else, and the boy . . . Well, the boy had done what he always did best, ran when the going got tough. And that left Ethan, as always and ever, alone in a town he’d best be thinking about moving out of before it trapped him there forever.

The neighborhood paperboy cycled along the sidewalk, tossing his wares against his patrons’ front doors with deadly accuracy. Ethan acknowledged it was time he left before the neighbors started wondering who the scruffy dark man in the bushes was.

Leaving his hiding place, Ethan started walking, not down the street and away as he should have, but toward the apartment complex for a closer look before heading on and away forever. Casually he strolled by the front window and peaked in, just to see.

Boxes still unpacked and in an organized disarray. He saw the new flat owner coming down the stairs, to retrieve the paper no doubt. Legs, feet, a flash of a deep forest green robe, a vee of graying chest hair, and lastly a face. Tired, still not awake, lined with the years, and almost as familiar as his own. Maybe more so.

The new owner of Rupert’s flat turned out to be none other than Rupert himself.

Ethan’s world narrowed down to one single point, one man, focused in a sea of red.

Against his better judgment, Ethan’s feet began carrying him up the short path to Ripper’s front door.

The oak door opened, and the owner bent down to pick up his paper. While Rupert was in middle of rising, Ethan took advantage of the awkward position, lunging to send the man sprawling back inside and landed on top of him.

“Ethan,” Ripper greeted him neutrally.

In response Ethan backhanded his old friend.

“You fucking piece of shit,” he hissed.

Rupert worked his jaw, his eyes never leaving Ethan’s.

“You were supposed to be gone.”

“Man can’t change his mind?” Rupert said lightly.

“What made you stay? Exorbitant plane fares?” he spat.

“Yes, of course. You know how high a priority a good bargain is for me,” Rupert said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Now would you be so kind as to get the hell off of me?”

“You were supposed to be gone,” Ethan repeated, standing up and moving to stalk around the room.

The boxes were once again in a half-packed state, but no longer out of indecision. Instead it spoke of a man trying to find the perfect place for everything once more.

What had happened to make him stay? Ripper had been so dead set on getting the hell out of Sunnydale, regardless of the consequences. And then it hit him. Ethan was surprised he didn’t think of it before.

“It was Joyce, wasn’t it?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

He heard the hollow thump of glass on wood, then liquid being poured. Turning, he saw Rupert take a large swallow of scotch and then set the glass down.

“Yes, it was,” his old friend returned simply, not quite meeting his eyes.

Ethan felt very numb, very still. “Of course you would stay for her.”

“Ethan, it’s not like that.”

“No?” he laughed mirthlessly. “Then how is it? Tell me, Ripper.”

“Does it matter? I’m staying aren’t I?” Rupert picked up the glass again, finishing off the amber liquid.

“What did she say that I didn’t?” Ethan walked over and picked up the other glass, watching the liquid swirl around the sides.

Rupert did look at him this time. “She asked me not to leave.”

Asked him not to leave. How bloody simple.

“You never asked me to stay, Ethan,” he said, gaze unwavering.

“No, I didn’t, did I?” He looked down into the glass, watching the scotch go round and round. “Not that it would have done much good, coming from me.”

Rupert’s hand came to rest on his shoulder. “Ethan . . .”

“Spare me, Ripper. Or is that asking too much?” His eyes darted to the hand on his shoulder. “And I would recommend removing that hand post haste.”

The numb calm was quickly eroding. Best he leave now before he did anything else to bollocks things up.

Instead, the grip on his shoulder tightened.

“Ripper,” he warned.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

“Oh really?” he asked, teeth clenching. He could feel the blood starting to flow more rapidly, his temperature rising, and rational thought slipping away. Everything became sharper and more clearly defined. Ethan could hear the steady ticking of the clock as they stood there, frozen it seemed. But above all, he could smell Rupert—scotch and musk and morning . . .

Rupert’s other hand came to rest on his free shoulder, pinning Ethan to the spot. “You are not going out there in this state.”

“Do you really think you can stop me, old man?” And he broke free of the grip, setting the scotch glass down and not quite running to the door. There was precious little time left before—

He was slammed bodily into the door. And Ripper held him there, twisting his right arm up, pressing him hard against the solid oak.

“I thought you learned this lesson years ago, Ethan,” Ripper rasped, breath stirring the tiny hairs on his skin.

“And which was that? You’ve given me so many lessons, it’s hard to keep track,” he sneered at the wood.

With each word, Ripper twisted Ethan’s arm a little higher. “Don’t ever question my abilities.”

Ethan was aware of every inch of Ripper that held him in place, but nothing more so than the raging erection pressing heavily against his ass.

“Did it ever cross your mind, Ripper, that I may have let you think you’ve always had the upper hand,” Ethan levered himself up from the door and twisted to the right, breaking Ripper’s hold, “while it has always been quite the opposite?”

Victory, if it could be called that, was short lived because Ripper grabbed hold of Ethan’s shirt and tossed him bodily across the room, a couple of well-placed cardboard boxes breaking his fall.

Winded, Ethan still managed to laugh. “Ah, there’s the Ripper I know and love. Missed you, mate.”

Ripper hauled him to his feet. “Missed me, did you?”

“Always,” Ethan grinned.

The grip on his shirt tightened and Ethan prepared himself for another journey into the scattered boxes, but instead Ripper pulled him closer, mouth viciously attacking his own. Ethan welcomed the onslaught, opening to grant Ripper complete access. But access was the only thing he gave. He made Ripper fight for every sweeping thrust and sharp bite, made him earn the right to dominate.

Ethan’s hands came to rest on the other man’s ass and used the grip to pull them flush against one another, their cocks grinding against each other through the layers of fabric. Both men groaned at the friction, hips working to increase the sensation.

Ripper broke the kiss and stepped back. “On your knees.”

“Make me,” Ethan challenged.

Ripper nodded slightly, a dark smile of satisfaction playing about his lips. “As you wish.” His fist came flying from the right and landed square in Ethan’s stomach, doubling him over. Using the off-balanced position, Ripper shoved him down. Ethan had a brief moment to take in the intricate design of Ripper’s rug before fingers wove through his hair, yanking him up onto his knees until he was eye-level with Ripper’s crotch, the green terrycloth still knotted firmly in place.

He breathed against his spasming stomach muscles. Looking up at Ripper defiantly, he reached out to undo the knot and letting the robe fall open to reveal Ripper’s fully erect cock, throbbing to the primal beat coursing through his veins.

Ethan ran his fingers along the pulsing shaft, root to tip, stopping to thumb the delicate head. There was something satisfying in being able to dominate another person from such subservient position. Bowing, his lips parted as he swallowed the phallus whole, the smooth skin slipping easily through the moist waiting interior of his mouth. As many times as he had done this for Ripper over the years, it never grew old. There was always the challenge of bringing him off, the uncertainty of whether or not Ripper would give up his tight control. Then Ethan was moving back, teeth scraping along Ripper’s sensitive shaft that sent shudders through the other man’s body.

“Christ, Ethan,” Ripper growled, hands fisting in his hair.

Ethan alternated with soft tongue and sharp teeth, pleasure and pain, until he felt Ripper started to tense as he prepared for release. But Ripper held off, pulling out and using his grip in Ethan’s hair to pull him to his feet.

“Remove your pants,” he commanded. “And if you make me make you, you will regret it, my friend.”

As tempted at he was to test Ripper, Ethan willingly complied, undoing belt, button, and zipper in one practiced movement, sending the material pooling at his feet.

“Now your shirt.”

Ethan removed that as well, in efficient silence, until he stood naked before Ripper.

“Now what do I do with you?” Ripper considered, circling as he slid off his robe.

Ethan waited for Ripper to make a move. And waited. And waited. He only had so much patience and what patience he had was even more strained than usual.

“It’s sex, Rupert, not fucking rocket science,” he sighed impatiently.

“Rupert?”

“Ripper. I said ‘Ripper.’”

“No,” the man came to a stop in front of him. “I distinctly heard ‘Rupert.’”

“You’re the same fucking person.” Ethan resisted the urge to stomp his foot. Things had been moving along quite nicely without any pesky thinking and now here it was creeping up on him. Fuck Rupert and his fucking semantics.

“But you don’t believe that, do you? You never have,” Rupert concluded with surprise. For he was Rupert now, the ego to Ripper’s id.

“Shit,” Ethan shook his head, rage giving way to the hurt it had been masking. For once he would like Rupert to be wrong about him. Was that asking too much?

“Ethan,” fingers gently lifting his chin.

“You know, it’s less painful when you beat me bloody,” he sighed.

Hazel eyes danced. “I wouldn’t rule it out quite yet.”

“Promise?” He fought the smile that tugged at his lips.

They stood there, naked, not touching save for Rupert’s hand on his cheek, thumb gently stroking. It was almost tender. So of course Ethan had to open his big mouth and ruin the moment.

“It’s times like these that I could fool myself into thinking you actually care,” he smirked, all too aware of his accusing tone.

“You think I don’t?”

“Given our history?” Not to mention recent events, he thought to himself. “No.”

“You always were an idiot, Ethan,” Rupert said sadly, dropping his hand and walking away. He wound up at the couch, sitting down and leaning his head back. To the ceiling, “Mostly my fault I suppose. Never knew quite how to deal with you.”

Ethan crossed his arms defensively.

Rupert lifted his head to look at Ethan. “For all of your confidence and accomplishment, I have never met anyone more insecure than you.”

“Sorry I don’t meet with your lofty standards”

“Get off your bloody high horse, Ethan!” his friend gave an incredulous laugh. “You bitch about how rigid I am with my views, and yet you aren’t all that different. Stubborn to a fault.”

Ethan rolled his eyes, trying to let the words roll off and away from him. What did he care? A hell of a lot more than he’d like to admit. Rupert’s opinion had always mattered, had been the only one that mattered for a number of years.

“What do you want from me?” Ethan finally asked, resigned.

“For one, you could come have a seat like a civilized person instead of standing there like you were two seconds away from bolting. Which I would caution against in your current state of undress,” Rupert replied, keeping his tone light.

While not a modest man by nature, standing in the middle of Rupert’s living room naked would try the most immodest of people. So Ethan conceded, taking a seat on the far end of the couch.

Rupert just shook his head. “God forbid, Ethan, that you ever do anything the easy way.” Then turning toward him, “Two: I want the truth.”

About what? A number of possibilities went through Ethan’s head, each equally likely. Why did he help with the resurrection? Why was he still here? But there was really only one answer.

“I love her, Rupert,” he said simply.

“Of course you do.” Not quite the reaction he had been expecting. “I saw that back when we were in London. See, my observation skills aren’t that shoddy.”

“Could you at least pretend to be impressed?”

“Sorry, mate. However, that wasn’t what I wanted to know.” He paused as if considering his words carefully. “What is this between us?”

“Us being all three, or you and me?” Ethan queried.

“You and me,” Rupert answered.

How was he supposed to answer a question like that?

Finally, “Habit.”

“You love Joyce, and I’m the habit you can’t quite kick, eh?” his friend said wryly.

Rupert's humor irked him. “I don’t know what else to call it except habit. Nearly a quarter-century long habit. Something I keep coming back to no matter how hard I try to kick it, or, for that matter, how hard you kick me. Never been able to shake you, Ripper,” Ethan sighed, realizing just how much he was saying.

Rupert seemed to grow more sober then. “I’ve never wanted to see the truth of that. All these years, it was just easier to think you were trying to get revenge or pay me back for, well, I don’t know what.”

“You weren’t all that wrong. I was seeking revenge of a sort,” Ethan turned so he was facing his friend. “You fucking left me without saying good-bye. After everything, you owed me that much.”

Rupert grimaced as if pained by his words. “I never would have been able to leave if I had.”

Oddly, that was the one reason Ethan had never considered, probably because he’d been too focused on Rupert being a chicken shit and leaving in the first place. Probably wouldn’t have made much of a difference in the long run.

“So it wasn’t just nothing to you, then? A brief spot of rebellion before settling down to the sedentary pursuits of a Watcher’s life.”

“I think my life has been anything but sedentary.”

“Which you have me to thank for.”

“Along with the vampires and hell gods and crazy government agencies…” The mood in the room lightened.

“While I may play but a small part, is none the less an important one.”

“It always has been,” Rupert said pointedly, hand coming to rest on Ethan’s knee for emphasis.

Looking at the hand, Ethan had to laugh, “God but you’re a sentimental old fool, aren’t you?”

Rupert laughed as well, but didn’t move away. “I suppose I am. There are worse things.”

“Indeed. Such as your penchant for interrupting a good fuck with conversation. You always get chatty before sex.”

“Not always.”

“Even in full on Ripper mode you still natter on.”

Rupert pounced, laying Ethan flat on the couch, grinning ferally. Ripper was back. “My nattering, as you call it, doesn’t seem to have any adverse effects.” To emphasize his point he rolled his hips, grinding their hardening cocks together.

“I’ve just learned to tune you out is all,” Ethan smirked, managing to hold back the moan that threatened to escape.

“Have you?” Rupert dropped his head, seeking out one of Ethan’s ears. He tongued and nibbled lightly at the lobe. “So, you aren’t listening when I tell you that sometimes all it takes is a smirk from you to make me hard? Or that the only thing that can satisfy me some days is fucking you until you’re begging me to get you off?”

Ethan did moan at that, regardless of the satisfaction it would give the other man. “Wouldn’t mind you doing that right now, actually,” he growled.

“Well, that’s not really begging,” Rupert propped himself up.

Ethan worked one of his hands free and brought it behind Rupert’s head, pulling him down. “Not really in the mood to beg. I’m more in the mood for a quick, hard fuck.”

Their lips met with bruising intensity, tongues dueling as they ground against each other, bare skin fricative but slick.

Ethan broke away. “Fuck me, Rupert.”

Rupert groaned. “Upstairs.” He started to move away, but Ethan wrapped his legs around Rupert’s hips and held him in place.

“Here,” he said firmly. “And I’m offering up front to pay for the cleaning.”

“Can’t argue with that.” And Rupert was kissing him again, hand seeking, searching, finally fingers prodding for entry.

Relaxing, Ethan allowed one then two and finally three of Rupert’s fingers to thrust in and out, preparing him. The fingers hit just so, causing Ethan to buck up off the couch and against Rupert.

Ethan vaguely registered Rupert’s smile as the man removed his fingers and positioned his cock for entry. There was a hiss from Rupert as he slid in. Ethan lifted his hips to accommodate, enjoying the stretching fullness he felt as Rupert filled him. His balls tightened as Rupert’s hand wrapped around his cock. Christ if that was all it was going to take, it really had been too long.

“Quick and hard it is,” Rupert said, sounding far too pleased.

Ethan’s response was cut off as Rupert began to move in and out with increasingly rapid strokes, hand working Ethan’s cock in counterpoint. Ethan could do little more than hang on to the other man, nails digging into the skin of Rupert’s shoulders as sensations overwhelmed him.

If not for Rupert’s quick thinking he would have come far too soon.

“Not just yet,” Rupert managed to chuckle, breathing ragged as he gripped Ethan’s cock tightly.

“Bastard,” Ethan growled. But his focus had returned enough to be a more active participant. His right hand left Rupert’s shoulder and skating down the planes of his back, muscles rippling with movement under Ethan’s fingers, soon found Rupert’s ass. Without hesitation, he slid between the cleft and inside.

“Fuck, Ethan,” Rupert cried out, momentarily stilling at the intrusion. “More,” he breathed and Ethan complied, adding a second finger.

Their mouths met once again, connecting them completely as the pace picked up once more. Tongues and teeth, hands and fingers and cocks . . . to be everywhere at once only increase the fevered tempo.

They drove each other on until Rupert came first, pulling Ethan after.

Rupert collapsed on top of him, and they lay on the couch in a tangle of sweat-coated limbs. The weight was comforting.

“What am I going to do, Ripper?” he sighed.

There was a mumbled reply from Rupert.

“Didn’t quite catch that.”

Rupert lifted his head, frowning. “I asked whether or not this couldn’t wait. You can never just relax, can you?”

“Not really, no.”

“What you are going to do regarding Joyce?” Rupert asked, rolling off him and sitting up.

Ethan nodded.

“Talk to her,” he said simply.

“Of course, why didn’t I think of that!” Ethan grimaced. “Doesn’t do much good when the lady won’t talk to me.”

“She doesn’t need to talk to you.”

“Somehow I think getting her to talk to me would be far easier than getting her to listen to anything I had to say.”

Realizing this was going nowhere, Ethan got up from the couch and sought out his clothes. He then headed for the bathroom, wanting nothing more than a quick shower and to get on his way.

The near scalding drops dancing over his skin as he stood under the spray, trying to recapture a moment’s oblivion for the current fuck-up that was his life.

He jumped when the shower curtain was thrown back.

“Can’t it wait for five bloody minutes?” he asked in response to Rupert’s serious look and crossed arms.

“It could,” Rupert acknowledged.

“But it won’t,” Ethan said, dipping his head under the spray. “Let’s hear it.”

“Why didn’t you stop them?”

“I tried to.”

“But four children managed to overpower you?” his friend said with disbelief.

“They have before,” he said sardonically.

“But unlike them, you understand fully what was at stake with the spell. How could you have been so stupid?”

Ethan’s fist slammed against the tile, and he welcomed the pain that flared with the contact. “Because I was sick and tired of seeing everyone roaming about like they’d lost their world and there was no point in going on!” Then quietly, “I didn’t even consider she might be in fucking paradise.”

He braced himself against the wall as the water washed over him, trying to fight off the feelings that had been threatening to overtake him for weeks now. Regret was not something he felt; there wasn’t any point. That didn’t keep the sick feeling from creeping up on him that there was more he could have done.

The feel of Rupert’s hands sliding the soap along his back pulled him away from his thoughts.

“I should have done everything I could to stop them,” he admitted, as Rupert’s hands moved to his chest.

“Not much you can do about that now, is there?” Rupert said sagely while he worked. “And it’s as much my fault as yours.”

Ethan could have just left things there and enjoyed the steady circles that Rupert washed him in, but he couldn’t stop the words.

“I was aiming for Dawn that night, on the tower.”

Rupert’s hands didn’t falter. “I know you were.”

Ethan turned to face the man he thought he’d known so well.

Rupert met his gazing unfalteringly. “It’s what I would have done if I’d had the opportunity.”

The man was fooling himself. “You don’t kill innocents, Rupert.”

“Sometimes there isn’t a choice in the matter,” he said tonelessly, stepping around Ethan to get under the spray.

And Ethan knew with sudden clarity what Rupert meant. “Ben.”

Rupert was silent as he cleaned himself under the spray.

Ethan reached for Rupert’s hand, stilling his movements. “You don’t regret it either, do you?”

He felt Rupert’s chest expand and contract as he took a deep breath. “I should.”

“Maybe,” Ethan said, taking the soap and doing what Rupert had done for him. “Maybe not.”

Rupert leaned back against Ethan as he worked. “Thing used to be so much easier when we were younger.”

“Could forget everything in a haze of alcohol and drugs and magic.”

“And sex.”

“Always the best part,” Ethan smiled, dipping his head to bite lightly at Rupert’s shoulder.

Rupert twisted, seeking out Ethan’s mouth and they managed to forget for a little while longer.  



End file.
